The Crying Girl
A little girl's heard crying
In her room at Mary kings close
Not everyone hears, only a few
If you listen carefully
You may hear her to
Let's call her little Annie
As no one knows her name
People leave her presents
To try and ease her pain
Pustules on her face they weep
Her body red and sore
She prays each night the pain to stop
She can't take it any more
The pain it keeps her crying
At night it hurts the most
In 1645 Annie died of the plague
And what we hear now is her ghost
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